


Tuunbaq's Tale

by WallaceAndGromitGirl



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Perspective, Canonical Character Death, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Revenge, Self-Mutilation, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallaceAndGromitGirl/pseuds/WallaceAndGromitGirl
Summary: The creature called Tuunbaq was no simple-minded beast. It thought, and it felt, and it learned to hate the mysterious pale men. It learned to hate many things.A retelling of (most of) the series from Tuunbaq's perspective, set in the same continuity as "The Past Is All Behind Me."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about how I haven't yet seen a Terror fic that's done completely from Tuunbaq's perspective and goes into detail about the decisions it makes during the story. So I got to work, and this was the result. I tried pulling a few ideas and details from the book, but overall, this is meant as a companion piece to the series. Up to a point, anyway. Someday I might write a Terror fic that's fully canon compliant, but today is not that day.

Tuunbaq had known of the pale men’s arrival long before the pale men knew of their own journey. There was no reason to doubt that vision, for the Second Sight had never proved wrong before.

It saw two ships, larger and grander than any other pale man’s ship, moored in the thick ice of the far north. Ships full of pale men had ventured into Tuunbaq’s lands before, but never so deep, and never for this long. It would not do under normal circumstances: Tuunbaq would have had to wipe them all out. It had been waiting for these ships to come, however. There was something aboard one of them which it must acquire.

Tuunbaq could see its favorite shaman growing weak and frail. Age was taking him, as it took all the other humans, and the coming winter might be his last. That would leave Silna as Tuunbaq’s master, a thought which Tuunbaq refused to dwell on. It did not particularly care for Silna. She was too timid and unsure to make a proper shaman, lacking the strength to bend anything to her will. Certainly not its own glorious self. But she was the shaman’s only child, and the shaman held her almost as dear as he held Tuunbaq. So it would endure her for a time, for his sake. She would soon prove useful to it in another way, for she had reached childbearing age. The bloodline of Tuunbaq’s favorite shaman must be preserved, which meant a suitable husband had to be found for the girl. One with a strong soul, who was worthy of becoming  _ sixam ieua _ and would have offspring of the same mold. That was why Tuunbaq waited for the pale men’s ships.

There would be one amongst the pale men who suited Tuunbaq’s purpose well enough. Tuunbaq had not seen his face or heard his name, but it had felt within him. The heart was pure and well-meaning, the mind open to what it could not fully comprehend. His power to command others was questionable, but that was something Tuunbaq could overlook. He was not needed for that purpose, and in all other respects, he was the first worthy human to appear in many moons. He might resist the destiny ordained for him, but he could be persuaded. As soon as the ships arrived, Tuunbaq and its shaman would go to collect him.

When Tuunbaq informed the shaman, it was met with apprehension. He did not like the idea of his daughter being given to a pale man, he said. Tuunbaq had expected this.  _ She will not be given to him, _ it said.  _ His people will give him to us, and he will abide by our ways. Once he has given your daughter children, she is free to dispose of him. _

_ But if she does not desire him… _

_ Her desire for him is no concern of mine, _ Tuunbaq answered.  _ She is to do my bidding without question, as you have always done. That is the way. _

_ May we bring her when we go to collect the pale man, and tell her of what she is to expect? _

_ We shall bring her, yes. But she must not know of my plans until we have the pale man with us. _

Silna would refuse if she was told ahead of time, perhaps try to run away or make some other rash choice. Tuunbaq was certain she would, if only for the brief pleasure of defying its wishes. She had always feared it, even now, when she was grown and aware of how it kept her world in balance. The ungrateful one, it called her. She who did not know her place or care to stay in it.

She could hate Tuunbaq as much as she wished, but she would not refuse it forever. The humans never did. That was not the way.

* * *

 

The seasons were just beginning to change when Tuunbaq sensed the arrival of the ships. They were trapped in the ice, never to move again. The time to approach them had come. With its shaman at its side and the girl trailing reluctantly behind, Tuunbaq head off in search of its quarry.

At first, the plan was to go before the pale men and demand that the worthy one offer himself up. They would all be awestruck by its power, and the man it sought would never balk at such an honor: if he did, Tuunbaq could simply steal him from the ship and be on its way.

The shaman had another plan.  _ The pale men are not like us, _ he said.  _ They do not know our ways, and the worthy one will not know who he is. We must learn for ourselves before we approach. _

Tuunbaq considered his favorite shaman’s plan and found it good. If it could find the worthy one, he might be taken more easily to avoid any trouble. So once the shaman and his daughter had set up their winter camp, Tuunbaq went forth to search the pale men’s faces and souls.

It was not pleased with what it found. Most of the pale men were too old, or too proud, or too stupid. The one which the pale men looked up to and called Sir John, he was all three. So was the foul-tempered one called Francis, but at least that one saw through the empty words of the great fool just as Tuunbaq did. The one called James, he was somewhat better. He was still much too proud, however, and his mind recoiled at anything unfamiliar. No, he was not the one. Nor was the one who called himself Hickey, although he pleased Tuunbaq more than the others. He was calm and collected, and his mind thrilled at the thought of new discoveries. He ached for a change in his life--that was why he had come to this place--and at first, Tuunbaq considered giving it to him. But his heart was hard, and his desires only concerned himself. 

In fact, those seemed to be the flaws that afflicted so many of the pale men. The closer Tuunbaq looked, the more it witnessed their fear, their hate, their stubborn belief in their own barbarism. Surely none of these creatures deserved the gift that it had come to bestow upon them.

But the search had to go on. Tuunbaq had looked into the future, and there it had seen Silna with a pale man at her side and two children by her fire. The Second Sight did not deceive.

* * *

 

It was not meant to happen this way. A few fleeting seconds, and everything had gone wrong. Tuunbaq clawed at the ice which trapped the remains of its shaman, roaring out its endless grief.

The night before, it had sensed a small group of the pale men traveling its way. It had thought, in a moment of weakness, that they had found the worthy one at last and were bringing him forth.  _ We must go to meet them, _ it said to its shaman.

But there was no reverent greeting. Instead they had attacked its shaman the moment they lay eyes on him, drawing his blood with their sticks that spat forth smoke and death. There was nothing to be done: Tuunbaq could feel his life draining away on to the snow as he cried out in pain.

Were it not for the protests of a few, the pale men might have left him there to die. Tuunbaq wished they had when it saw what became of the shaman: they hardly attempted to treat him, forced him to die aboard their dark and cramped vessel rather than beneath the sky as a man of his kind ought to. His body was not even cold when they turned Silna out into the night as though they had not just murdered her flesh and blood. And then came the greatest injustice of all, the way they had dumped the poor man’s body into the ice and dared to claim they had buried him.

For a time, Tuunbaq forgot all about the worthy one and the plans it had crafted. Already it had killed one of the pale men and taken the soul of another, but that was not nearly good enough. They had to pay dearly for this, every last one of them. 

The one called Sir John would be the first to die, for he was the leader of them all. A master for a master. When Silna returned to camp, it hung close to the ships, waiting for its chance to strike. At last its patience was rewarded: the pale man appeared with a number of his fellows, seemingly intending to wait on the ice for a time.

That was when Tuunbaq first noticed a pale man it had somehow overlooked.

He did not carry himself with the same arrogance as all the others. Instead he crept in their shadows, unable to keep pace with them. Were he alone in these lands, he would surely die. The other pale men sensed his weakness as well, for they cast mocking looks upon him and would not heed his words. He seemed to take little heed of their disdain, however. Much of his time he spent alone, sifting through the leather-bound oddities it held dear or making strange symbols on some form of parchment. When he could stand the cold, he ventured outside to stare with wonder at the cold horizon, or the dancing lights of the night sky. There was an excitement, a reverence in his demeanor that only he possessed. He did not belong with these other pale men, and he seemed to know it.

Had Tuunbaq come across him before the killing of the shaman, it might have considered its journey a success. It would have taken this pale man, then thought no more of the others and their doomed ships. But now there was a greater task to be done. The taking of a life must be avenged.

Still, Tuunbaq thought it wise not to harm the unusual pale man when it came to do its hunting. There was no point in killing something that posed no threat.

The death of Sir John was sweeter than Tuunbaq could have imagined. He turned tail and abandoned his men the instant he was in danger, thinking he could save his own hide. But his fear wafted from him like a putrid musk, betraying him. There was never a chance of escape.

Tuunbaq left one of his legs behind, so the other pale men would know who had done this. As for the rest of him, it knew exactly what to do. The hole where its shaman lay was not far ahead.

It did not bother with partaking of the pale man’s flesh or soul: it simply pushed him into the water and listened to him suffer. More pleasurable than the screams he let out as he died was the howling of his soul as it tried to flee from its prison of ice.

_ Let that be your fate, pale man, _ said Tuunbaq.  _ Share the fate of my shaman. _

It ought to have been satisfied by that. A life for a life, the world set back into balance. But Tuunbaq wanted to hear the rest of the pale men scream as Sir John had. It wanted to kill again.


	2. Chapter 2

Silna was becoming an obstruction. She knew what had to be done now that her father was gone, and yet she was avoiding it like a cowardly child. Tuunbaq brought her seal to eat, hoping she would see reason, and still she shunned its company. It thought of leaving her, and sometimes it would try, but it could not let the old shaman’s kin come to harm. That was not the way. What was more, the Second Sight had foretold that she must live.

So Tuunbaq stayed by her camp, keeping a watchful eye upon the shaman that would not be a shaman. And when the pale men came to drag her back to their dreadful ships, Tuunbaq resolved not to leave her to their lack of mercy.

They were well and truly frightened now. Nearly all of them carried weapons, and a number of them stood watch all day and all night. Stealing aboard the ship to retrieve Silna would be too great a risk to both her and Tuunbaq itself. Those strange sticks possessed the power to kill a great shaman; there was no telling what else they might be capable of.

It hung close to the ships, keeping its eyes and ears vigilant. Until the right time came, it would have to be content with watching over Silna from afar. The pale men were holding her prisoner in a cramped little room, as though they believed she could hurt them. In truth, they had already done her much greater harm.

That was why Tuunbaq could not understand the gradual dissipation of her fear. Surely she knew that few of these pale men could be trusted? As the weeks passed, however, it found the answer to the puzzle.

The pale man it had ignored before, the one rejected by the others as a weakling, had become Silna’s most frequent companion. He never visited her less than once a day, and usually he appeared more often than that. He would bring her a meal, and when she had finished it, they would spend a great deal of time conversing with each other. It seemed he wanted to learn her language and teach her to speak his. Tuunbaq sneered at how the pale man abused the eloquent words of its people with his simple tongue, butchering words and scrambling sentences. 

Silna, however, did not seem upset by his ignorance. In fact, she seemed to find it somewhat endearing. She would make gentle corrections to his grammar and guide him through his pronunciations. To his credit, he was a good listener, and he was quick to learn from his mistakes. But that hardly accounted for how Silna had no fear of him, how they both grew unhappy when it came time for him to depart, and how she smiled more than Tuunbaq had ever seen her do when he returned. 

At the same time, the pale man possessed an interest in her that went beyond mere curiosity. He would set aside precious hours to enjoy her company, practicing her language so that he might speak better when they met again. The other pale men still looked down on him, but he seemed to endure their mockery less than before: he would have a harsh word for them every now and again, particularly when they spoke of Silna. When he went about, it was with a straighter back and his head held just a bit higher. He was undergoing a change, and she was its cause.

At first, Tuunbaq was willing not to interfere. It entertained the thought that this was the man it had come to find, and that Silna had been taken, whether by fate or by the pale men’s plans, so that she would finally meet him. Tuunbaq thought it desirable that they learn to at least be content with one another before it took them away from this place. That would make the things to come much easier. It was not even adverse to the thought of Silna caring for him, as long as she remembered not to place him above itself in her esteem. But that was something it could not fully trust her to do.

A suspicion crept into Tuunbaq’s mind. She had never shown any desire to take up her father’s mantle, and now she was amongst strange beings who bore a grudge against that which had killed their leader. They might wish to use her as a means of fighting against it. Perhaps that was the pale man’s task, to steal its secrets from her. Affection would be dangerous if that was the case: it would have to hold them under closer observation.

It did not think of the Second Sight, or how the pale man never breathed a word of his hours with Silna to another living soul. It thought only of itself.

* * *

 

Pressed against the ice in the endless dark of the winter months, Tuunbaq was invisible. It could nearly crawl up the side of the ship and not be seen by the pale men. Silna and her companion were somewhere on the lowest deck, so it contented itself with staying close to the ground and searching for them through the layers of wood. Its eyes and ears were keen, peeling through what mortal senses could not. It found the two of them in no time at all.

Their meeting proceeded as usual, with dull speaking lessons and long conversations which Tuunbaq could not bring itself to pay attention to. It began to let its mind wander. Perhaps it was not seeing things as they truly were: after all, it had not quite felt itself since the first time it had eaten a pale man.

It had no time to dwell on this thought, for its attention was recaptured by a sudden and unusual movement from Silna.

The pale man was lost in his own thoughts, mumbling to himself as he made scratches inside one of his leather-bound valuables. Silna watched him work, leaning forward ever so slightly as though waiting for him to finish. She looked from his hands to his face, and then smiled. She had made a decision of some sort. Reaching out, she lay her palm on the pale man’s shoulder.

Tuunbaq drew back. It had never seen her touch him before.

The pale man appeared just as shocked: his head shot up, and he made a half hearted attempt to jerk away from her. “Ah...yes?” he managed to stammer.

It was something of a pleasure, Tuunbaq thought, to see the pale man so befuddled.

Silna grasped his shoulder. “Harry,” she whispered to him. 

That meant nothing to Tuunbaq. It must have been one of the pale man’s words.

He seemed to understand it, at least, for he nodded. “Is something wrong?” he whispered back.

With her free hand, she pointed at herself. “Silna.”

Tuunbaq had thought, like a fool, that there were no more surprises which could come from the girl’s insolence. But this,  _ this _ was not the way to be followed. She was a shaman now, its shaman, whether she wanted to be or not. Her name was to become a secret shared only with Tuunbaq through the offering of her tongue. It was not to be given out to a pale man who had yet to prove himself trustworthy.

The pale man understood her meaning. His eyes grew wide, and he had to catch his breath. “Is...that you?” he asked in shaky Inuktitut.

She nodded.

“Silna,” he repeated a few times, feeling and tasting the word in his mouth. It came to him more easily than the other words, and he beamed when he felt he had mastered it. “Thank you,” he said to her. “It’s…” He paused before switching back to his own tongue. “It’s a beautiful name.”

She mirrored his smile, taking in every drop of happiness he offered and giving him her own.

Tuunbaq’s grasp on the side of the ship loosened in its distraction. Its claws, dug into the wood, made a reverberating squeal as they slid downward. 

Silna nearly leapt from her seat upon hearing the noise. Her eyes were wide, and her whole body was beginning to tremble. Tuunbaq could hear the sudden choppiness of her breath. She choked out its name, barely able to raise her voice. She sounded just as frightened as the pale men. Didn’t she realize it had come to take her back where she belonged?

“It’s alright,” said the pale man, taking both of her hands in his. “I won’t...we won’t let you come to harm. I would rather not meet with it, either.” He could tell that she did not understand, so he began using words that she could. “Safe,” he said firmly in Inuktitut. “Here. With me.”

Silna’s breath gradually slowed to an even pace. She squeezed the pale man’s hands, which seemed to make him realize he had grabbed them in the first place.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out, pulling away from her. “I wasn’t...I mean, I should not have...I ought to go.”

But Silna would not allow him to go. Resting her hand atop his, she moved closer and looked at him with grateful eyes. “Thank you,” she said, not in her own tongue, but in his.

This time, he did not remove himself.

Tuunbaq growled: it had seen all it needed to. Releasing itself from the ship, it bounded away across the ice with anger burning in its heart.

Silna had been slipping from its grasp the moment she was born. Now, when it finally needed her, the feelings she harbored for this pale man were drawing her even further away. She was not meant to care for him above her purpose, above Tuunbaq.

Something had to be done soon. When the time was right, it would attack the ships and steal them both away. The pale man needed to be taught his proper place, and Silna needed to be reminded of her duties. It would not lose her as it had lost her father: it would rip her tongue out itself if it had to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some pretty intense stuff in the second half, both in what is said and what the characters do to themselves/each other. So, trigger warning for graphic content and physical/emotional abuse. It's not fun, people.

A few nights later, Tuunbaq found the moment it had been waiting for. A pack of pale men were moving from their own ship to the one Silna was kept in. They had come to collect her, the leader said, on behalf of the one called Francis. He seemed to be the leader of them all now.

The pale man who had grown fond of Silna had not been included in this order, but he asked to accompany the others anyway. He seemed frightened by the thought of being unable to see her again. While the other pale men cared little for his plight, they still granted his request. And so they took Silna from her old prison and set out for her new one.

Tuunbaq could have attacked them as they crossed the ice: ought to have done so, in fact. But something about descending upon the pale men when they were at their weakest was most unsatisfying. It would rather best them on their own terrain, prove its dominance once and for all. Yes, it thought, that was the best course of action.

That was before it realized what the pale men were truly capable of.

They had in their possession a pair of terrible weapons. The first was a madman, a wild figure with an untamed beard who showed neither fear nor deference when Tuunbaq found him. He led it on a chase up the trunks of the ship, jumping from branch to branch in an effort to outpace it. This one was more clever than most; the pale men had a worthy opponent among them after all. Not for long, thought Tuunbaq. He would learn his lesson.

But while the madman had served as a distraction, the other pale men had prepared their greatest weapon. It was something not unlike their deadly sticks, but much larger in size. They must have made it just to fight their strong enemy, and fight they did.

Tuunbaq had managed to grab hold of one of the madman’s legs and rip it nearly to shreds. Just as it was about to finish him off, it heard a great noise like thunder echoing from below. A moment later, it was struck by a flying object that was hot as a fire. Its strong hide burned, and chunks of its impenetrable flesh were torn away. Blood began to pour forth from the fresh wound.

It screamed aloud at the unfamiliar pain. What terrible magic was this that could pierce its skin? In its fright, it lost its grip and went plunging into the snow.

It had never fled a battle before. The energy which sustained it as it ran back into the icy hills was unfamiliar, and the flashing memories of what had brought it to this point filled it with angry shame. The pale men had not seen it depart, thank goodness. Their cheers echoed across the plain long after their ships had faded from sight.

The weight of fatigue began to seep into Tuunbaq’s bones. Perhaps the wound was taking its toll, or the souls it had taken in the fight were sapping its strength. Whatever the matter, it could not run any longer. It collapsed amidst the rocks, and concealed in the landscape, it closed its eyes.

It did not know how long it slept. The sky was still dark when it awoke. From a short distance away, it heard the crunch of footsteps in snow. With a growl, it pulled itself to his feet. If the pale men had come seeking another fight, they would find one.

But it was not a pale man. It was Silna, looking cold and tired, with her small pack of belongings slung over her shoulder. Had she been released? No, the pale men did not seem the type to let a prisoner go free so easily. Were they using her as bait? It did not sense any of them nearby, not even the one who had attached himself to her. Why had he not come?

If it had simply taken them as they crossed the ice, if it had not been so proud…

No. This was no fault of its own. It could not be. Tuunbaq made no mistakes. This was on Silna’s shoulders. Had she managed to escape with the pale man on the night it had last watched her, it would not have been wounded and humiliated as it had been. The shamans were meant to protect Tuunbaq, not abandon it for the unknown.

She approached it, reaching out a hand as though to touch the gash along its side. It snarled at her, leapt up and ran away without looking back. She did not try to call out after it.

If she would not willingly accept her destiny, then it would force her to. It would not visit her again or give her food until she performed the ceremony.  _ See how long you can survive without me, ungrateful one. _

* * *

 

At last she relented, as Tuunbaq had known she would. In the beginning, she had been stubborn, determined to provide for herself in its absence. But as the land grew colder and the time of endless night dragged on, she had come to her senses.

When Tuunbaq first heard her song echo across the plain, its heart had swelled with satisfaction and impatience. The time had finally come: soon it would say all that it wished to say to Silna. It ran off, following the sound of her voice.

She was kneeling when it approached, a small light burning on the ground before her and a knife clutched in her hand. Tuunbaq circled her, growling.  _ I shall not simply give you my power, ungrateful one. I want to hear you plead for it. _

Silna could not have heard it, but she sensed its anger all the same. With slow, trembling words, she quietly begged for its forgiveness and offered herself up as shaman in her father’s place, as she ought to have done so long ago. Then she closed her eyes and lifted the blade to her mouth.

It was too little, Tuunbaq thought, but it was not entirely too late.

The knife did not cut all the way through the muscle at the first swipe. The blood came pouring forth from Silna’s mouth, dribbling down her chin and soaking into the fur of her parka, but the tongue itself still dangled from its roots by a few threads. Silna doubled over, her face contorting in agony. Tears sprang to her eyes, and quick shrieks of pain escaped from between her bloodied lips.

Tuunbaq took a step toward her, meaning to finish what she had begun, but she still possessed the strength to push herself away from it. Lifting up the knife again, she grabbed her tongue with one hand and cut with the other. This time, it broke free of its bonds and came away in her hand. Silna twisted her neck to avoid looking at it as she held it out toward Tuunbaq. Her chest was still heaving with silent sobs.

She had done her role in the ceremony. Now it had to perform its own.

Tuunbaq stepped forward and opened its mouth. From within the darkness of its throat, another set of jaws came slithering forth, propelled by thick, rope-like muscle. The jaws reflexively opened and closed, sensitive to the stinging cold. Then they shot forward, the teeth scraping Silna’s palm as they snapped up her tongue. 

Tuunbaq chewed, ripping this most precious meal into chunks and swallowing them as the inner jaws retreated back into its body. A pulsating energy began to gather within its brain as it ate. The contract was made, and the bond had been forged.

Silna finally forced herself to open her eyes and look at Tuunbaq. It glared back, sending the energy in itself shooting into her own mind. The force of it was too much for her weak frame: she collapsed onto the ice, crying out as she held her head in her hands.

_ I only accept your offering so that I may speak to you now, child, _ Tuunbaq sent to her as it towered over her body. She groaned and writhed at the sensation of its voice inside her head.  _ You have never been worthy of calling yourself my shaman. You have no fire in your belly. You are selfish and cowardly, a child too eager to stray from the ways of her people. You gave me none of the reverence I am owed, even when you learned of how I protect your people’s lands. You were born into a great destiny, and yet you care nothing for it. When your father passed, what did you do? You ran from me! You would rather give yourself over to that spineless pale man than serve your rightful --  _

_ Goodsir, _ she said.

Tuunbaq stopped.  _ What did you say? _

With great effort, Silna pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her blood was gathering on the snow, soaking her hands and clothes and draining the life from her skin. She did not seem to care as she returned Tuunbaq’s cold gaze.

_ He is called Harry Goodsir _ , she said.  _ He told me his name as I told him mine. We traded as equals. _

_ Which of our other secrets have you told the pale men, foolish one?  _

_ It is not foolish to be kind to those who show you kindness _ , Silna answered.  _ And it is not foolish to shun those who are cruel to you. _

_ I fed you with the spoils of my hunt and allowed you to grow! Was this not love? What more would you have me do for you? _

_ I would have had you treat me as a friend, and not something that you only kept alive because it would be of use to you in time. _ Silna staggered to her feet.  _ I pity you, Tuunbaq. _

_ Pity me? I am not to be pitied! What part of my glory do you pity, child? _

_ You cannot truly love anything _ , she said.  _ You only care for what you can steal the life from. You loved my father because he gave up his life for you, and you hate me because I will not. _

_ Not even if I gave you a great prize in exchange? The pale man you call Goodsir? _

She was caught off-guard.  _ What do you mean? _

_ I am displeased with you, child _ , Tuunbaq said,  _ but I may still forgive if you repent. Promise that you will be my shaman as you are destined, and that you will place me above all others in your esteem. Do this, and when we leave this place, I will bring that pale man with us. _

_ What do you want with him?  _ Silna sounded frightened at the idea.

_ I have sensed that he is pure of soul. If I take his tongue, he will become that which you are now, and I will bind him to you -- _

_ No! _ she said.  _ I won’t let you! _

_ I will do as I wish! _ Tuunbaq roared in her face, nearly knocking her to the ground.  _ You dare to defy me? I give you a chance to atone for what you have done, and you cast it aside? _

_ I will not repay the kindness of my friend by cursing him as you have cursed me _ , said Silna.  _ I will protect him from you if I must. _

_ You cannot act against me! You are my shaman! _

_ If you will not be commanded, then neither will I! _

The blinding rage overtook Tuunbaq in that moment. It swung its paw, colliding with Silna’s face and slicing her open from her jaw down her neck. She fell like a dead tree and lay motionless on the ice, barely breathing.

Tuunbaq did not wait to see whether she lived or died. It fled across the plain as its anger turned against itself.  _ How you be so foolish as to harm your shaman? _

_ She is not my shaman, _ it said, reassuring itself.  _ She refused you. You owe her no mercy. _

But she was still all that remained of its favorite shaman’s family, and it had attacked her without a thought.

No, this was not its fault. It was not Silna’s fault, either. It was the fault of the pale men who had thrown both their lives into chaos, and none were more dangerous than the one who had twisted Silna’s mind and turned her against Tuunbaq. 

_ But what of the Second Sight? _

The Second Sight had been wrong, and continuing to follow its path would lead to Tuunbaq’s destruction. Only by making its own path could it save itself now.

It did not sense that Silna was conscious again, staggering away toward the pale men’s ships.


	4. Chapter 4

The days became weeks, and the weeks became months. In the beginning, Tuunbaq thought of Silna only in passing. Where she had gone, if she still lived, was not its concern. It was free now, no longer tethered to a weak-willed human that did not share an ounce of its wisdom. Now it could do as it wished.

It traveled back toward the lonely north that had always been its territory. It would not hunt and eat the pale men any longer; its stomach churned at the mere thought. The riches of nature would provide it with sustenance.

But it was not to be. Something had gone wrong: there was no game to be had. The seal and walrus kept themselves far beneath the ice. The deer fled with great speed at the first sound of Tuunbaq’s step, and no amount of exertion could close the distance between them. The birds never came down to earth. Even the lowliest of prey, the rabbits and foxes, had found ways of vanishing from sight.

Tuunbaq knew what it all meant. Try as it might, it could not forget when the balance of nature had last shifted like this, all that immeasurable time ago. The people had been desperate then, desperate enough for their shamans to bind themselves to the creature they feared most, so they might compel it not to frighten away all the game in the land.

_ We will feed you and honor you, mighty one _ , they said.  _ And you shall repay us with the power to survive. _

With the ties in place, they had been able to grow and thrive. Now those ties were broken, and the land was deserting them both in fear of Tuunbaq’s hunger.

The people would send another shaman to reforge the bond, no doubt. But Tuunbaq did not desire a new shaman. The murder of its old favorite still rankled in its breast. No other human would suffice, not even the old man’s own flesh and blood.

_ But is that as true as you believe? _

Its mind drifted to thoughts of Silna. She had been far too stubborn and proud, yes. But perhaps her pride had been inflamed by those harsh words spoken too soon. Perhaps she could have been brought to heel with some patience. She was her father’s child: could she not have learned the old man’s ways in time? Tuunbaq had little desire to teach, it was true, but teaching her would have been preferable to enduring the ignorance of an unfamiliar shaman.

Tuunbaq stretched out its mind. Would she hear its call? Was she still living?

Yes! It could feel her! She was far away, but she was not dead. If she had gone back to the pale men, she could be found easily. If they had turned on her and left her to die in the cold, then it would rescue her. They both had but one friend left in this world now. When she realized that, she would show the proper deference.

Turning to the south, Tuunbaq began to run. It could waste no more time.

* * *

 

It was close to where Silna waited when a sudden wave of nausea overtook it. It cried out in pain and slumped to the ground as its legs weakened and failed. Its whole body trembled and shivered with the force of what it had sensed. What was wrong? Had the souls of the pale men resurfaced to cause more disagreement?

No, that was not it. This was something far worse -- this was death. Not peaceful death, either, but sudden and brutal death. The sort of death that barely gave you time to realize you were dying before it took you. The moment had already passed, but it left behind the stench of fresh blood and the echoing screams of fear.

Tuunbaq soon found its source.

Half a dozen of its people lay slain at the bottom of a hill. A small family of travelers, likely not aware of the danger before it had descended upon them. Several men, a few women and a girl. They had been left to die where they had fallen, their blood smeared across the ground and their own bodies in half-formed handprints. Scratches, gashes and knife wounds covered them without reason or pattern. This had been no planned attack, but a frenzied slaughter. Animals hunted for their flesh and pelts were offered more dignity.

But the worst part was their faces. They had been taken off-guard by their murderer, and it showed in the wide, frightened looks they bore. They were twisted towards one another, reaching out for help with the last of their strength. The child’s face showed no comprehension of what had befallen it, only fear of the knife. Too young to truly know death, but old enough to be caught in its unforgiving claws.

Tuunbaq could not come too close to where they lay: the aura of the unspeakable was still too great. It found itself unable to look at them directly, and that its eyes swam with tears when it tried.  _ They were not even warriors _ , it thought.  _ They had no weapons. They meant no harm, and yet they were butchered. _ None of the supplies on their sledge had been displaced. Whatever killed them had done so not for what they possessed, but for the pleasure of killing them.

The pale men had done this. No other creature was capable of such savagery.

Tuunbaq’s rage began to gather in its throat, building up until it spilled forth in a broken roar that reverberated across the land. It hoped the pale men would hear. They knew their sin, and now they would know the price they must pay for it.

This time, none of them would live to see another day.

* * *

 

Tuunbaq found the pale men not in their ships, but in a small camp not far from where the bodies of their victims lay. They must have decided to travel inland, intent on spreading their pestilence deeper into the land they had invaded. But already they were beginning to fall apart. 

Their minds and bodies were poisoned. What had poisoned them was unclear, but their hair grew thin and brittle as blood seeped from their scalps, and black spots appeared on their torsos and limbs. Perhaps some power greater than them all had finally marked these creatures for death. They seemed to sense this: their eyes betrayed their dark thoughts. They darted from face to face, finding not a single friend amongst them. Their lips quivered with unspoken accusations threatening to shoot forth like the deadly fire from their weapons. They could feel the shadows creeping forward, threatening to consume them. One word acknowledging their presence would give them the power they needed to kill.

For a moment, Tuunbaq thought of allowing the men to live. Killing them would only protect them from the greater suffering.

As it watched the camp from a distance, it saw a ragged little band of pale men come over the horizon. It thought it saw the one called Francis and the one who called himself Hickey, as well as...could it be? Tuunbaq looked closer, hoping it was mistaken.

But it was not. Silna walked amongst the group: she had gone crawling back to the pale men after all. She looked older somehow, despite such little time having passed since they had parted. Perhaps it came from her solemn look, the way she held her jaw steady and firm, the sorrowful resentment that burned in her eyes as she looked about her. The gash across her face had healed into a thin, jagged scar, a reminder of what had been done to her. Tuunbaq hoped it could make her forget. It would have to be careful: she would surely grow proud again if she realized that it needed her.

Tuunbaq was drawn out of its thoughts by a loud noise that came from within the camp. The pale men were shocked by it as well, for they hung at the outskirts of their settlement as their leader shouted at the men inside. Gradually they all dispersed, still on edge.

The one called Francis was among the last to leave. He said a few words to Silna, pointing back the way they had come. So he was casting her out, abandoning her once again. Tuunbaq expected nothing less. The pale men said no further words to her, but simply walked away.

At last only two figures remained, Silna and a pale man who seemed unwilling to move. Tuunbaq recognized the face of the man she had called Harry Goodsir. The memory of the Second Sight flashed in its mind, but it pushed the vision away. He was just as guilty as the rest, and he would die with them.

Silna began to walk away. The fool chased after her, chattering frantically in its own language about something that did not matter. Tuunbaq glowered, willing the man to go away.  _ Haven’t you done enough? _

But Silna paused and let him approach her. She silenced him with the touch of her hand on his chest. Then she did something that sent shudders of revulsion through Tuunbaq’s body -- she smiled at him.

Did she feel no grief for her own people, no respect for their suffering? The group had come from the same direction in which the corpses lay. She must have seen them. For all she knew, this pale man she held dear had been the one to slaughter them. And she had the gall, the heartlessness to smile at him.

The sight was almost enough to make Tuunbaq descend on them both then and there.  _ No, _ it thought, breathing heavily. His time will come, and you need her alive. You will go after her first.

It followed her away from the camp, then waited until they were alone to make its strike.  _ How could you betray me like this, foolish one? _ it snarled, stalking up behind her.

Silna turned around slowly.  _ I cannot betray you if I am not yours, _ she said, her voice cold and hard.  _ You said I was not your shaman. _

_ But betraying your own people! You cannot deny that! _

_ I have betrayed no one, _ she answered.

Tuunbaq lunged forward, exhaling its hot, putrid breath into her face.  _ You showed affection to that murderous fiend while your forgotten brethren lie dead. _

_ He is no murderer, _ she answered, glaring back.

_ They are all murderers! Can’t you see that? The darkness they carry with them will be their end, and now it is consuming all it touches! Have you no compassion for those slain? _

_ Of course I do! _ she yelled, tears brimming in her eyes.

_ You are a liar, foolish one. You would disregard their pain, all for the sake of one pale man. _

Silna looked away.  _ I grieve just as you have, _ she said at last.  _ And I hate the savagery of the pale men. Nearly all of them I could hate, and I do. But I cannot do the same for him. Not even if I wanted to. _

_ But he is the same as all the rest… _

_ He is a better man than all the rest combined, _ she said.  _ He sees the power of this land, and he reveres it. He took it upon himself to learn the tongue of our people, and he does not think our ways savage. He shows compassion when none of his fellows will. He senses the darkness that you spoke of, but he will not let it take him, though he fears it more than anything. _ She stopped herself, realizing how passionate she had become.  _ I needed him to know all that. I needed him to know that he is still pure. _

_ Because you love him, _ said Tuunbaq.  _ Is that it? _

Silna froze, as though she had never considered this thought.  _ I don’t know, _ she said at last.  _ I don’t know… _

_ I do, _ it continued.  _ The Second Sight warned me of this. It showed me that you would marry him, and that he would give you children worthy of serving me. And I would have made it true had you been loyal. _

Silna looked up. For a moment, her face was awash with disbelief and a glimmer of hope. But she soon hardened it again.  _ Forcing my family to serve you, _ she said at last.  _ That would be a true betrayal. _

Tuunbaq growled and began to move away.  _ It shall never come to pass. He will die with his brethren. _

The blood drained from her face.  _ What? _

_ Only by killing all of the pale man will the land be cured. He is just as tainted as the rest. _

Silna ran ahead of it and blocked its path.  _ Please, don’t do this! Don’t hurt him! _

_ Do you really think you wield power over me, foolish one? I will butcher him and take his soul just to defy you. Now you are the one who has sealed his fate -- _

**_I will not let you kill him!_ ** she shouted, and the earth trembled with the sudden strength of her voice.

Tuunbaq cried out and staggered backwards, astonished. There was an unearthly, omniscient echo that suddenly permeated her voice. It had heard that echo before, in the voice of its favorite shaman as he bent its will to his own.

Silna was struck dumb by the sound, but not for long.  **_You will not kill him,_ ** she continued, settling back into her former serenity.  **_I do not ask this of you, Tuunbaq. I command it._ **

The energy of her words forced its way into Tuunbaq’s brain, causing it to lose its balance.  _ You...you cannot command me! _ it said, struggling back to its feet. Rearing up, it raised its paw and tried to swing at her.

**_You will not dare to strike me,_ ** said Silna.

It missed its mark and went stumbling to the ground.

**_Now leave, and do not come into my sight again._ **

The adrenaline of fear carried it away, its heartbeat pounding in its own ears. It did not look back as it fled, and it did not stop even when she was long gone. It ran through the thick fog, lost and aimless.

The sound of foreign voices gradually reached its ears, along with the stench of dozens of unclean souls. The pale men’s camp was near.

_ I will do what I swore to do, _ it thought.  _ Soon she will see that she has no power after all. _

There was doubt in its mind and fear in its heart, but Tuunbaq still gathered up its strength and charged.


	5. Chapter 5

The pale men never stood a chance. They melted into a screaming, panicking mass as soon as Tuunbaq came loping out of the fog into their camp. Even when burdened by weakness and confusion as it was, it had no trouble snatching up men one after another. It tore through their bodies as though they were no stronger than the cloth of their feeble tents, eating up one soul after another in the hopes that one of them would belong to the man it sought. But all of them were sour and putrid: that of the man called Goodsir was nowhere to be found.

When it finally managed to find its bearings, it tried to look around for him. But the world had turned to smoke and fog and screams, and one frightened face could not be distinguished from the other. It lifted its snout and sniffed the air, searching for a clue that might reveal the man’s hiding place.

A strange scent lingered beneath all the others. It was fear, and a powerful, all-consuming fear at that. The scent of the man called Goodsir mingled with it: the fear was his own. Tuunbaq wondered why it stood out from the fear that surrounded it, until it realized that this fear did not come from its own presence. This was fear of something else. But what? Surely it must be a powerful force indeed.

Its attention was taken up by an unfamiliar noise, a hiss followed by a  _ fwish _ like the sound of an animal coursing through water. Tuunbaq whirled around and charged in the direction of its source. It would meet the pale men’s weapon head-on this time.

But that proved to be yet another mistake. The terrible flying creature collided with it and burst apart with a great clamor, sending smoke and fire everywhere. Tuunbaq roared in pain, its own self and the world around tumbling without sense or direction. It thought it felt the life draining from its veins, the heat turning its flesh to ash.

_ No _ , it said.  _ No weapon can kill you, not even the weapon of a pale man _ .

It focused on a dark, rapidly shrinking pinpoint in the distance. A man with dark curls running for his life. Surely that must be the man it sought.

It scrambled, seeking to feel the ground beneath its paws. When it could stand on four legs again, it rushed forward, seeing nothing before it but its prey. The stumbling, screaming pale man was likewise focused only on itself: Tuunbaq was upon him in a matter of seconds.

It did not look to see if it even had the right pale man. Part of it did not even care. It simply tore into his weak flesh, cutting through meat and bone to grasp the panicked soul within and dislodge it from his body. 

At first the soul would not come loose -- the man did not want to die.  _ That is not your choice to make _ , said Tuunbaq as it pulled harder. At last the soul broke away from its roots, and the pale man’s screams reached a crescendo before dying out as the essence of him left his flesh.

Tuunbaq knew from the first bite that this was not the pale man it sought. The soul was all wrong, soaked in ignorance and simple fears and something that tasted even more noxious. Tuunbaq swallowed it all the same; the hunger and hatred overpowered its doubts as to the wisdom of the deed.

This time, however, the consequences came at once. The soul burned as it slid down its throat and set its insides churning with the foul taste of rot and poison. Tuunbaq staggered, disoriented once again. It gasped and coughed, trying to vomit up the soul and finding it could not.

If it lingered here, the other pale men would fall upon it in this moment of weakness. It ran as fast as it could, not caring which way it went. It didn’t know how far it had managed to get before it slumped to the ground, hacking up blood and bile.

At last its stomach felt settled again, and sensation came back into its limbs. It struggled to its feet and looked around with bleary eyes. The sun was high in the sky, and the land stretched out for empty miles in all directions. Wherever it looked, it saw only a flat horizon.

Lost. It was the ruler of this land, and it was lost.

Tuunbaq threw back its head, and from its bloodstained mouth came a hoarse, broken laugh.

* * *

 

There were no more days or nights. There was only the endless glare of the blazing sun, a light that illuminated the weakness of all it touched. The world would not move, not even towards a change for the worse. In fact, it was almost refusing to do so.  _ I will not move for you _ , it seemed to say to Tuunbaq.  _ I was here long before you, and I will stay long after you have gone. I am eternal, and you are nothing. _

Tuunbaq wondered if this was what men heard and felt when they knew they were dying.

Yes, dying. There was no other explanation for what was happening to it, why its muscles were turning soft and its bones turning brittle, why its insides churned with each step it took. The pale men’s filthy souls and poisoned flesh were burning in its gut, eating away at its body from the inside out. It was more than the pale man’s fiery weapons had ever done. How strange -- only in death were they able to strike at their foe. 

Did they know, perhaps? Did the eaten souls still possess a hint of awareness and decide to keep fighting back? Had the pale men who had been spared realized that it was better for them to die, and were they now haunting that which had brought them so much grief?

Some of them seemed content with their doom, at any rate. Tuunbaq had met one of them not long ago, at the point where land gave way to ice and ocean. It was the madman, the one who had lured Tuunbaq up the branches of the ship so long ago. Now, however, he seemed overtaken by an eerie calm. He had been sitting quietly on the shore, staring out to sea. Tuunbaq had growled as it approached him, thinking another fight was moments away. But when the pale man turned around, he smiled at it and laughed as though an old friend was greeting him. The joy never faded from his face as he said, “What in the name of God took you so fucking long?”

He died with little more than a shudder. Tuunbaq opened him from belly to throat with one swipe, and his warm innards came gushing out in a steaming pile. It had planned only to kill him, not to eat any parts. But the man was meat, and Tuunbaq was starving. It gobbled up his guts and then the rest of his flesh, not even deterred by the sharp trinkets which the pale man had coated himself with. Those it swallowed whole, and they clawed at its throat and stomach as it did so.

The pale man’s soul, however, went untouched. Tuunbaq had had enough of such dreadful things. This one went flying away across the ice, overjoyed to be untethered from its body at last. Tuunbaq thought it heard the pale man laugh at him as he vanished. It could not muster the energy to care.

It had not seen another living creature since then. It had been wondering alone through the endless daylight, growing weaker as the poison swept through it. Every now and then it would pause to hack up more blood and half-digested meat. Its vision would falter, and the pulsing in its head would grow stronger. Surely there was little time left now.

Tuunbaq had no idea what would happen after that. It supposed it must have a soul of its own, as all things did. But what judgment would be passed on a soul that consumed other souls without remorse? It had heard its people tell stories of faraway places: an underworld where souls lay in deep sleep for a year, and a land up above the earth where they lived in eternal bliss. It wondered if it might be forced to sleep much longer than a year, if it would be found unworthy of ever looking upon the world again. 

It had never deigned to think on such things before. But that was when it had believed it could not die.

If the soul of its favorite shaman had ever managed to escape that prison of ice, then he would now be in that place of bliss above the world. Tuunbaq found tears gathering in its eyes as it tried to remember the old man’s face and found that it could not. There was only a swirl of blood and bones and pale, rotting flesh.

_ I did all of this for you, my friend _ , it said.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it? The killing had begun to avenge him, but it had continued to sate Tuunbaq’s own appetite. The old shaman would no doubt be horrified by the destruction that had been wrought in his name, and by the pain heaped upon his daughter.

Tuunbaq had long given up hope of ever seeing Silna again. There was a bitterness in the thought that even her face would be a welcome sight now. But that did not matter. Even if she had not commanded it to stay away from her, it would find no sympathy in her presence. It had left her alone, mute, likely believing her Goodsir was long dead because of its anger. Tuunbaq itself had no reason to believe he was alive: it had not seen him in its brief glimpses of the pale men trudging across the rocks.

But there was no more time to worry about pale men. Soon its own time would run out, and its people would be left alone. There would be nothing to keep the world in balance, no one to ensure plentiful game. No one to protect them from the dangers of the pale men.

They would blame Silna, no doubt. They would say she had lost Tuunbaq, that she had failed in her duties as shaman. They would send her away to live and die alone.

She would never be able to tell them about the true depth of her power, or how it was not she who had lost Tuunbaq, but Tuunbaq who had lost her.

Its thoughts flew back to the vision that had sent it on this foolish quest, that which was now ashes. It made no sense: if the future had held nothing but death all along, then  _ why _ had the Second Sight given a glimpse of one that was filled with life?

Another wave of nausea over its body. It sank to the ground and curled up, waiting to see if the pains would subside. Perhaps they would not, and this would be its final resting place.

It heard a voice from far off. A high-pitched, manic tone that seemed to be raised in song. It must be one of the pale men, for it spoke in their tongue. It was quickly silenced by another sound, the telltale burst of their death-spitters.

Tuunbaq managed to pull itself to its feet. Looking across the hills, it saw them. There were only nine or ten of them left at the most. All of them looked like walking corpses, shaking and bedraggled. They were in no position to put up a fight.

_ If I am to die _ , Tuunbaq thought, I will take them with me so they cannot harm my people.

With the last of its power, it began to run towards them.

The pale men could see its approach, judging by the flurry of movement that broke out amongst them. But this time, they did not flee from it. Instead they gathered in a line, their death-spitters raised. So they were determined to make a last stand as well. Tuunbaq almost pitied their ignorance.

Tuunbaq began to cut them down as soon as it crested the hill. It heard the shots from the death-spitters and felt their projectiles pierce its hide -- they had never managed to wound it with such small weapons before. But it still had strength in its paws and teeth, and it swept them aside like they were pebbles in a creek. They had neither names nor faces: they were only bodies waiting to be slaughtered. Tuunbaq simply tore them to shreds, giving no thought to the actions. There was no joy in it anymore, only a grim sense of duty.

It ate one that had been tied to some sort of metal rope, which dangled from its mouth when it was done. At the opposite end lay another pale man, by now one of the last left. Tuunbaq began to pull him towards it. He screamed and struggled, but his strength was no match for its own, even now. It might have recognized him once, but now it could not. Part of it did not wish to…

_ “Wait!” _

The gruesome tug of war came to a halt. A third figure, another pale man, had just darted between Tuunbaq and its prey. He was breathing heavily and struggling to stand, his hands raised in submission. Tuunbaq could not recognize the face, it was so haggard and overgrown. But the smell, that had not changed. It belonged to Silna’s pale man, to Goodsir.

Tuunbaq’s stomach turned, and not only from the poison. For a moment, it thought it could be mistaken. But no, the face matched the scent. Just barely, for it had been drained of all innocence and light it had once possessed. 

Tuunbaq had never considered that the pale men might be so cruel to one of their own kind. What had they done to break him so fully, and in such little time? Didn’t they know who he was, or might have been? Did they feel anything for him at all?

And yet, he was not gone altogether. There was a glint of determination in his tired eyes as he dropped to his knees. He began to speak, his voice a thin whisper that would not be heard above a soft wind. Tuunbaq could not understand his words. It circled him, probing at the edges of his mind to see what he spoke of.

It was surprised by what it found. Out came a surge of grief and remorse: he mourned not only the loss of his fellows, but of Silna and the slain travelers and even the old shaman. He had nothing for himself except a shudder of disgust. A lesser pale man would have begged for mercy and forgiveness, but this one did not. He wished only to pay for his sins with his life. A pale man that actually  _ wanted _ to die -- remarkable.

And yet, Tuunbaq found it could not raise its paw to do the deed.

Perhaps it was the remembrance of Silna’s command that kept it from moving. Or perhaps it was the thought of its final kill being someone who looked so helpless, someone it might have called family in another life. It could not make him another casualty of this madness.

It looked him over. He was still kneeling, and for a moment, Tuunbaq thought he looked rather like Silna had on the night she had sacrificed her tongue.

It knew then what it wanted to do.

Tuunbaq pushed Goodsir over and held him down with one paw. The inner jaws slid forth one last time and plunged into the pale man’s screaming mouth. It looked to his thoughts again, wondering if it could make itself heard.  _ Do not be afraid _ , it said.  _ I mean to give you a gift. Tell me what you desire. _

He desired to cleanse his soul of the guilt he felt. He desired to go home -- not back to the ships, but to a place much further away, a land that was green and peaceful. Above all, he desired to return to Silna and hear her voice again.

_ That is one wish I might grant. _

Tuunbaq severed his tongue from its roots with a few quick bites. He fell unconscious, unable to stand the pain. It withdrew from him as it chewed and swallowed, the inner jaws sliding back into place. 

_ You cannot understand this now, pale man _ , it said when it felt the link between them form.  _ But you will in time. You must protect my shaman’s child now. Call to her. She will hear you, and she will find you. _

He was bleeding out, too weak to move, but he still murmured Silna’s name in his mind.

A foul stench flared up from the boat which the pale men had been dragging behind them. It was the pale man who called himself Hickey, screaming in anger as he waved his knife. He took his own tongue in his hand and cut it out with rough, jagged swipes of the blade. The blood that dribbled forth seemed not to faze him in the least. When the tongue was free, he stepped forward and held it out with a sweep of his arm, as though he were bestowing a prize on someone lesser than him.

Tuunbaq could have laughed at him.  _ There is only one thing you are worthy of, pale man. _

It ripped off his arm and swung him around like a doll. His frail, diseased flesh fell apart almost instantly, the innards flying every which way. The soul was even more putrid as it came forth from the body: it would kill Tuunbaq to even touch it, let alone consume it. But if it was not destroyed, it would linger on. And that was more than such a soul deserved.

So Tuunbaq took it in its jaws and choked it down, gagging at the taste. It would rather rid the world of a filthy soul than a clean one.

The poison took hold at once. It could no longer breathe: its organ were rotting inside its body, muscles melting and bones breaking. It lost all feeling in its limbs as it fell to the ground, writhing in agony. The feeling of nothingness creeped up through its flesh, slowly overtaking its head and all its senses. All sounds faded away, and the world flashed in and out of darkness.

It saw bursts of images against its eyelids. A lone tent upon the wild plain. Pale fingers and brown fingers laced together in faint lamplight. Two figures walking into the sunrise, one carrying an infant on her back and the other guiding a child by the hand.

Tuunbaq understood everything then. The Second Sight had shown the true future after all. A future that belonged only to Silna, in which it was never meant to play a part.

_ You are free now, foolish one. Do not forget what brought you here. _

The light of green and violet blazed across the night sky, and from someplace in the distance came the sound of Tuunbaq’s people weeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. It's finally done. And to think I had originally planned for this to be just a oneshot. Needless to say, it spiraled off into something a lot bigger and better than I'd first imagined. I'm super proud of it, and I hope you all enjoyed it too!


End file.
